


Hail Caesar

by Lazarus76



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Roman Empire, Beck is the worst type of Emperor, Beck really thinks he's God, M/M, Peter has to become a hero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2020-12-28 09:57:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarus76/pseuds/Lazarus76
Summary: Set in an alternate Roman era, Beck is Mysterio - a corrupt, power hungry wannabe Emperor who has indeed conquered. Peter Parker is a young farmer and would be soldier captured. Things start to spiral.





	1. Cell and Crown

“Hold still, Caesar,” commented Janice, as she carefully pinned his cloak. “There. Perfect for the games this afternoon!”

Mysterio turned and looked at himself, and smirked. “Thank you, Janice.” He flicked a piece of imaginary fluff off his shoulder. “Yes, I look a like a true ruler. They'll see exactly what I want them to see.”

Janice stayed silent as the Emperor began to move past her. He swept out of the room, and headed for the door, his soldiers following him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Caesar, I have news.”

Mysterio raised one eyebrow. “What is it, William?”

His chief General gave a slight bow. “We finally defeated the last holding place. Took many. Mostly women and children.”

Mysterio took a languid sip of wine. “Mostly women and children?” he tutted. “William, if you only take those, I'll look like a brute who wants to subjugate people into slavery.” He swirled his goblet. “Release the women and children, under my protection.”

William bowed again. “Yes, Ceasar.”

“But did you capture anyone else?” Mysterio looked into the dark liquid within the golden chalice. “I need more soldiers, William. To fight for me. Stark is planning to raise more troops in Gaul. He still can't accept that after he threatened my execution – me, one of his best Senators! - I took soldiers and conquered this part of his Empire. I need those soldiers to protect me, and those women and children you speak of.”

William cleared his throat. “I did capture a few young men. I don't think they're suitable for fighting, Caesar. But they could be good...entertainment.”

Mysterio took another sip of wine, relishing the taste. “Its the games this afternoon, isn't it? Excellent. So let's see them in action.”

William blinked. “Caesar...there is a chance they could be killed.”

Mysterio shrugged. “If they die, they die. Multiple casualties often happen with the games, William. But it will strengthen my reputation as a fearsome leader. One whom Stark should not trifle with.”

William bowed, obsequieously. “Very good, Caesar.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Stand!”

Peter blinked. The shaft of light through the tiny window, high up in the cell, had caused his eyes to hurt. As his sight re-adjusted, he became aware of a tall, rangy figure standing in front of the cell bars. The man was scanning the group contained within. 

“You!”

Peter realised the man was pointing at him. Shakily, he began to stand. He'd been held in this pit for over 24 hours, no food, and little water. He swallowed – his mouth and throat were dry, and beginning to feel sore. He walked forward, feeling unsteady on his feet. 

“Can you fight?”

Peter blinked. He'd had some training in combat, but he mostly stayed on the farm that he ran with his aunt May, tending to the crops. He felt a rush of anger as he remembered the soldiers, clad in their hefty, clanking armour, resplendent with the eye motif and dark green cloaks, suddenly appering from out of nowhere. He'd turned, running back, determined to protect May, only to find himself blindsided by a soldier who appeared out of nowhere, delivering a hefty blow across his back. As he'd fallen to the ground, winded, another had appeared, this time delivering a blow to the head. Then – nothing.

He shook his head slightly. The other man's eyes were boring into him. “I said, can you fight?”

Peter bristled. “I can.”

“Good.” The older man gave a slight smirk. “They your life is saved – at least for today.” He produced a massive bunch of keys from the pocket of his long, light green robe. “Come with me.”

Peter swallowed again as he was following the man through a maze of tunnels. Finally, they reached another cell, and he waited whilst the older man unlocked it again. “You are to wait here.”

“But...what for?” Peter's voice sounded cracked and hoarse to his own ears. 

The older man smirked – again. Peter could feel his fists instinctively clenching. “You'll see.”

Peter felt the hand on his shoulder, and he was pushed in. The metal grill door clanked shut behind him. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“This way, Caesar!”

Mysterio felt his cloak flow from his shoulders as he followed Gunterman down the narrow hallway. Going to the Coliseum would be a test of how the public would react to him. 

He swallowed. They should be grateful. He'd beaten back Stark. As he walked onto the balcony that housed his throne, his eyes swept round at the occupants of the other seats. 

Hundreds of them. Possibly thousands. All of them clapping, and cheering. He smiled and waved. 

Gunterman escorted him to his throne. As he settled into it, and was handed another goblet of wine, he reflected upon the past few months. 

Taking control was never easy. He'd had to make difficult decisions, which had involved casualties, but he figured that was simply collatoral damage. He'd had to prove a point to Stark. 

He took a swallow of wine. Suddenly a huge cheer erupted, as the gate at the opening to the Coliseum was opened, and a few men came stumbling out. 

Mysterio leaned back and smirked. This was going to be fun.


	2. Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First taste of live entertainment.

Peter blinked as he stepped forward. The searing heat of the sun was a rude shock after the cool dankness of the cell. He felt his sword grow heavy and clumsy in his hand, and the leather straps he was wearing across his chest felt as though they were chafing his skin. 

“Stay with us.”

He swallowed. One of the men he'd been in the cell with, a surly, dark haired man who only identified himself as “Winter”, had spoken. Peter turned his head, trying to unsuccessfully shield his eyes from the sun's glare. “Stay with you?”

“Yes!” The man sounded irritable now. “If we stay in formation, then we're less likely to get killed. That's what the Emperor wants.”

Peter could barely hear him above the deafening roar of the crowd. He looked up, feeling slightly dizzy as he took in the sight of what appeared to be hundreds of faces. “The Emperor? He's here?!”

“Yes.” The other man nodded. “The corrupt, power grabbing one. Who has no right to sit on that throne, but there's no way to get him off it.”

“Winter.” He heard the voice of the other man he'd been in the cell with. A tall, dark skinned man who called himself Falcon. “They're going to be letting them out any minute.”

“Get into formation.” Winter was terse. “Falcon, you next to me. Kid, get in front, and crouch down. Draw your sword, and be ready.”

“Ready for-”

Peter's next words died in his throat. With a loud, scraping, shrieking sound, the huge metal grills that stood at each end of the ampitheatre were beginning to rise. The crowd's roars were starting to become deafening. Peter clutched his sword even harder, his knuckles starting to turn white. 

“Stand still!”

Peter stiffened, his spine and back muscles tensing. Suddenly a loud, brutish roar rang out, and two huge men were thundering towards them. Both clad in breast plates and body armour. One had a mock bulls head on, with tiny slits to allow him vision. He was holding a huge sword. 

Suddenly, Falcon and Winter were up, and beside him. One quick flash of Winter's sword, and the man staggered. Falcon raised his, and gored him in the chest, pulling it out quickly and letting a spray of blood spurt out. 

The entire crowd seemed to groan in delight. 

As the man fell with a sickening thud onto the sun-baked sand, Peter moved. As he turned, he noticed the second huge man was coming for him, with a fake fish head, and holding a large fishing net. Before Peter could move the net was on him, bundling him up like a fish.

“What- no! Get off me!”

The net pulled tighter. The crowd roared, enjoying the spectacle. Peter struggled, and tried to slash at it, but the ropes were thick, and held together well against the sword. 

Suddenly, he felt himself being raised. The man was actually hoisting him up, on to his shoulders. Peter felt a wave of fury, twisted, and managed to get his knees wither side of the man's neck, and squeezed. 

He heard a grunt – of pain or surprise, he couldn't tell. But the grip on the net was loosening. Peter took his chances, and squeezed again. This time, the net was definitely slipping, and Peter felt himself falling away from the man's shoulders, his sword almost slipping through the net holes. 

As he grabbed it, he felt himself falling. He swung round, landing lightly on the ground, and shrugged off the net. He turned, realising that the man had been stabbed in the chest by Winter, who offered him a hand to help him up.

Peter opened his mouth to thank the man, but Winter shook his head. The crowd were on their feet, cheering. 

Winter pulled his sword out of the man's chest. He grabbed Peter's arm. “Stand up straight. He's coming.”

Peter blinked again as a group of soldiers, their dark green cloaks flapping, walked into the ampitheatre. Then he noticed the tall, well built man walking amongst them, wearing the small gold crown of vine leaves. 

He gulped. 

The Emperor walked towards them, slowly. His icy blue eyes seemed to be scanning every inch of the three men. Winter and Falcon stood straight, and did not bow their heads. Peter, swallowing, decided to follow their lead. 

Eventually, he was standing in front of them. He looked at Winter. “What's your name?”

“Winter.” It was practically spat out.

The Emperor smirked – he seemed amused. “Why Winter?”

Winter raised his head, and stared directly at the other man. “Its what my Emperor used to call me. The true ruler. Antonius Stark.”

The Emperor visibly flushed with rage. He looked at his soldiers. “Kill him.” The words came out as sibilant hiss. Two men walked forward, and grabbed Winter's arms, practically dragging him. 

The Emperor looked at Falcon. “Kill this one, too.”

Peter could feel his heart thudding in his throat. The Emperor paused, looked at him, and for a split second Peter felt as if the older man were staring straight into his soul. 

Then the Emperor shrugged, smirking. As Falcon was dragged away, The Emperor stayed in front of Peter, raising his hand. 

He gave a thumbs up.

As Peter blinked, trying to process this, the other man turned, and began to walk away, the crowd roars deafening.


	3. Commands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncomfortable encounters

Peter felt his upper arm. It was sore to the touch - the guard who had walked him back to his cell had clamped his hand round it, pressing down hard upon the muscle and bone. He'd watched, shell shocked, as Winter and Falcon had been led away, to their deaths. 

Peter shrank back on the animal skins piled in a corner of the cave, a small respite from the hard stone floor. He began to think, wondering how he could plough a way out of this mess. He leaned against the wall, shivering as his skin touched the cold, hard surface. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Ceasar, do you want to see the prisoners?"

Mysterio yawned, and took another swallow of wine. "If I must." He got up, his long robes trailing behind him as he followed William. As they descended down the steps to the dungeons, he wrinkled his nose. The blend of body odour and stale urine was potent. He sniffed disdainfully. William walked briskly, the lit torches on the wall illuminating their path. 

"They're in here." William stopped outside one large iron grill. Mysterio looked. Both Falcon and Winter were inside, chained to the wall by their wrists, which were held above their heads. Mysterio sighed, and tutted. "Such a shame."

Both men looked up, Winter's eyes narrowing at the sight of the Emperor. Mysterio gestured for the grill to be unlocked, and he entered. 

"Its such a shame," he repeated, walking in and towards the two men, "that you're in here. Such a shame, when you could be out - there." He gestured towards the tunnel. "But if you are going to defy your Emperor, what do you expect?"

"You're not my Emperor." Winter's words came out as a hiss. Mysterio raised an eyebrow, and smirked. 

"But I am." He took a step forward, and leaned towards Winter. "I am your Emperor, and your life is in my hands."

Winter locked eyes with him. "My life is in your hands. So are my people's. In the hands of a man who is not fit to wear that wreath. Whose only ambitions are to drink wine, get fat, and tyrannise a population into doing his bidding."

Mysterio flushed with rage. "Defiant to the end. Your execution is tomorrow morning." He turned, and headed to the grill. He looked at William. "Ensure that this one receives no food or water before tomorrow morning." He smirked at Winter, turned, and left. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter must have fallen asleep, he realised, as suddenly the sound of jangling metal jolted him into consciousness. He looked up, and blinked. 

The Emperor was standing in front of him, his eyes casually scanning his body. Peter suddenly realised he was stripped off his armour from the games, exposing his bare chest. He crossed his arms, protectively. This only seemed to make the Emperor amused. 

"Well," he said, loftily. "This one will do. Have him brought to my quarters." 

William nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Check him for bruising. I like him pretty."

Peter blinked, feeling shocked. What did the Emperor want? Suddenly, he felt himself grabbed, and hauled to his feet, pulled past the smirking Emperor, into the torch lit corridor.


	4. Cleansing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uncomfortable encounter.

Peter tried to memorise the route. But he couldn't. Too many twists and turns as the two guards marched him down the corridor. Before he knew it, he was in a room. A large, panelled room, filled with luxurious furniture. 

He swallowed. The furniture looked soft, and inviting. He was suddenly conscious of how sore he was. Every muscle ached, and his joints were causing him to wince. Suddenly, he heard a door bang, and then a voice. 

"Strip."

Peter blinked, and turned round. The Emperor was standing behind him, coolly and dispassionately eyeing him. "What?"

"Strip." It was a command, Peter realised. "Or, would you prefer it if my guards came in and did it for you?"

Automatically, Peter began removing the filthy tunic he'd been wearing for so long. He held it, and the Emperor looked at him. "Drop it."

Peter did so. Now only in his undergarments, he felt exposed. That steely blue gaze was assessing every inch of him. He looked the Emperor in the face. "Now...?"

"You only speak when I tell you to, understand?"

Peter could only nod. He cast a quick glance, to see if there was anything he could grab to try and overpower the older man, but realised it would be fruitless. The Emperor would simply have him executed, and he would not escape. 

"Go into the small room."

Peter did so, conscious that by following orders, he would stay alive. His mind flitted to Winter and Falcon. 

"See this?"

Peter blinked again. The room was tiled, and in the middle of the room was a large, square, sunken bath. It was filled with steaming water, and Peter inhaled the scent of lillies. 

"Strip completely. Get in."

Peter complied. The Emperor nodded. "Get in."

As he sank into the hot water, Peter felt the pain in his body begin to dissipate. "Lean back. Let me see you."

Peter closed his eyes. "You're too thin," the Emperor murmured. "That will have to change."

"That's because you starve your prisoners." The words were out of Peter's mouth. 

Suddenly, Peter felt a hand grab his throat. He choked, and focused on the furious eyes boring into him. "What did I tell you about speaking? Don't you realise its your life that depends on me?"

Peter nodded, a chill running up his spine. The Emperor relaxed his hand, and removed it from the younger man's throat. "Get yourself washed. I'll have food brought up. And clothes. You need to look presentable for tonight's entertainment. Go on, ask me."

Peter tightened his fists in the water. "What is it?"

"What is it, Ceaser," the Emperor corrected. "Well, tomorrow you get to see your friends fight each other. The winner survives. They can serve me. The loser..." he smirked. "Well, he won't last."

Peter looked at the older man, pure hatred burning in his eyes. The Emperor chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll enjoy it."


	5. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is beginning to wonder exactly what he's become embroiled in.

"Have another one."

Peter swallowed, and shook his head. "No, thank you."

The other man's eyes hardened slightly. "No, thank you, Caesar. And I've told you to eat...so you eat."

Peter took another olive, and reluctantly put it in his mouth. The Emperor nodded. "That's right. Good boy."

The way the words rolled off the older man's tongue, with a soft sibilant hiss, made Peter want to gag. With difficulty, he chewed and swallowed the olive. The Emperor took another sip from the golden goblet in his hand. "When you were a peasant, toiling in the fields for fourteen hours a day, you were thin," he informed him. "You have status now. You have protection. Your body needs to reflect that."

Peter shuddered. Words hovered to his lips, wanting to confront Mysterio with what he meant, but he choked them back down. The Emperor was taking another sip of wine, and smiling, reflectively. 

Suddenly, there was a rap at the door. Peter blinked. Mysterio frowned, then spoke. "Enter!"

An older man in regalia walked in - William? - and bowed. "Caesar. They are ready."

"Excellent," Mysterio said, languidly, getting up from the soft couch. He adjusted his robe. "Come, Peter. Come for tonight's entertainment."

William bowed again, and began to leave, with Mysterio following him, and Peter behind him. His mouth was dry. Mysterio was speaking to William. "Are they both up to this?"

"Yes, SIre," William replied. "They've been given nutritious meals purely for this."

"Well, the one who wins will be working for me, so they need to be kept healthy. The other...well, I'll decide what to do with them."

"Very good, Caesar."

The three men entered the empty auditorium. Caeser walked forward, and stood still. "Bring them!"

Peter stood next to him as Falcon and Winter were dragged out by soldiers. Both were cleaner than when he had last seen them, but Winter still looked sullen, and Falcon refused to look at the Emperor. Both were wearing heavy battle armour. 

"You know why you are here tonight," Mysterio spoke, loftily. "You are here because you displeased me. As a punishment, you will fight each other. The winner will be decided by me. They will be my personal servant. The loser...you will learn your fate in due course."

He looked at both men. "This would be over more quickly, of you would just tell me where he is." 

"Who?" Winter muttered.

Mysterio glared. "Look at me. Him. Antonius' deputy."

Winter looked at the Emperor. "Steverus?"

"Yes," Mysterio nodded. 

Winter looked at the Emperor, and shook his head. 

"I'll die before I tell you."

The Emperor looked at Winter. "I can arrange that. William!"

William bowed. "Sire?"

"Bring me your sword," the Emperor commanded. Peter looked at Winter, his jaw starting to hang. He had heard of Winter, before their capture. How he was a brave, fierce soldier, and steadfastly loyal. "Caesar!" he choked out.

The Emperor turned. "Yes?"

"Please..." Peter swallowed, aware that four sets of eyes were now on him. "Please...don't kill him."

The Emperor smirked. "You have a lot to learn. I'm not going to kill him."

Peter felt himself sag with relief. "That's...good." 

Suddenly, to his shock, William handed the sword to him. Mysterio looked at Peter, and smirked again. "You are."


End file.
